I need to tell you something. When I write these “Out-the-Door” posts, I’m writing first to myself, because I need the reminders, the not so subtle nudges just as much as you do. Maybe more.

In Frederick Buechner’s Secrets in the Dark: A Life in Sermons his Innkeeper puts it like this:

"Do you know what it is like to run an inn- to run a business, a family, to run anything in this world for that matter, even your own life?

It is like being lost in a forest of a million trees, and each tree is a thing to be done.

Is there fresh linen on all the beds? Did the children put on their coats before they went out? Has the letter been written, the book read? Is there money enough left in the bank...​A million trees. A million things. Until finally we have eyes for nothing else, and whatever we see turns into a thing. The sparrow lying in the dust at your feet- just a thing to be kicked out of the way, not the mystery of death. The calling of children outside your window - just a distraction, an irrelevance, not life, not the wildest miracle of them all."

And that is how, of course, the Innkeeper missed something - or Someone - very small and very important. “I was lost in the forest somewhere, the unenchanted forest of a million trees.” (Buechner, p.11) He was understandable busy, but inexcusably blind to the greatest moment in history, happening right under his distracted nose.

I don’t want to be too hard on him, because it happens to all of us. But it is also why “out the door” has become so important to my easily lost-in-the-forest soul. Those million tree things-to-do can overtake my perspective and crowd out what is truly important to me faster than I can put on my walking shoes. Even “take a walk” becomes just a thing to be done some days, and yet, somehow choosing to do it causes my perspective to shift ever so slightly.

​I put down The List...

And that is the beginning. ​Of discovery.

Of another adventure in going nowhere. ​Of connection with the One who saw all that was made –small bits too–and behold – see! –it was very good. (Genesis 1:31) ​So, out the door I go, out the door you go. Slow down. Look around. Behold it all, behold the small. Especially the small. Tell me, what small and wonderful thing did you behold when you went out-the-door?

​Me? Oh, just some dandelions...after rain.

Dandelions after rain...

Go ahead, find some shoes and go out the door. You don't have to be gone long, just go. Ten minutes out, ten minutes back if that's all you can "afford" to invest today. But when you're out there, be all there! Be mindful of what you see and hear in your world.. Start listening with your eyes. You never know what you might discover. And if you won't take my word for it, here's a quote to get you motivated!

Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher."William Wordsworth

Spring is coming to the Shire...we live between the already, and the not yet.

Every day, the treetops change.

What a surprise!! Great horned owl having a late, late breakfast!! (Shouldn't you be sleeping now?)

Breakfast debris. Beauty in the dying...

Standing among the great ones...good place for adjusting my perspecticals.

Small is lovely too - colts foot looks like little drops of sunshine.

Always remember to look up...and don't forget to say, "Thanks."

What are you waiting for? The weekend is whispering your name..."Come. Pause. Listen." Yes. You. Out.the.door.

Time for a wonder-full walk. Want to come along? With temperatures soaring to the 70’s - 30 or 40 degrees warmer than normal!!- we won’t even need our sweatshirts! (As you can tell, our walk happened a few days ago, since today is a rainy "high of 47 degrees" day!! I guess this makes our wonder-full walk even more of a treasure!) ​​Let’s wander along Hickory Lane and Cemetery Road; the sky is a canvas of cloud splendor, and it might take us forever to walk a mile...I keep stopping to look up, to turn fully around and look again, gaping at the shifting magic overhead. The scene changes, reframes, comes into focus, fades, and changes again. I can't seem to find any words but Wow! And thanks!

facing north east at 4:19pm

facing south west at 4:22pm

In the flooded meadow, the puddles are full of clouds, it’s Longfellow’s “Infinite meadows of heaven” reflected in slop, and I think, “This is my life.” (Yours too?) Still, it’s puddle-wonderful. (Thanks, e e cummings.)

My life in five words: Heaven reflected in the mess.

My heart is so full I can barely breathe. For three days, that one new worship song has filled my mind, my heart; now it overflows, and I’m singing truth loud and scaring the birds.

I adapt it and sing it again -"How Iloveto hear Your voice call out my name,it draws me to Your deep deep love..."

​

​The creek sings too, its own water music, lavishly splashing the full greenness of spring across a dead log.

​Willows wave promises, and I wave back.

Overhead, a robin prances in the tree tops...(but won't perch for a clear photo!) ​Bluebird call notes make my heart race; a cardinal sings in the underbrush.​And look! In the thorn thicket, a perky Carolina wren announces himself.

​​

Not all the sounds are music. Near the still-frozen pond, geese are loudly out-of-sorts. Probably, they wanted to take a float; their complaints rasp the air like rusty gate racket. But I still love them. They make me smile.

And over everything, sky wonder. More extravagant than you would ever imagine seeing in this long valley in the drab of February. The skyscape is full of glory, clouds of all sorts gather and disband, little windows of azure open and close, and I wonder what’s coming next...Jesus? A cold front? Both?

4:57 pm

4:57 pm

5:07pm

This vision of sky beauty and the smell of wet earth and the robin song of hope swell up inside of me and I’m sure if I don’t sing I’ll break wide open...

Were the whole realm of nature mine. (Wait...isn’t it all mine for the seeing and hearing and feeling touching and even tasting, because it’s all His and so am I, and it’s all gift?)

That were an offering... (a present, this present moment, my heart clear full, my vision fully clear for this glimpse of enough and glory, mud and clouds)

Author

I'm finding my way beyond the maze of the "middle" years (if I'm gonna be 100 and something someday...) ​living life as a country woman who is a writer, gardener, wife, mom, nature observer, teacher,and most of all a much loved child of God.